


closer to you

by 3amscribbles



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-04 02:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6636769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3amscribbles/pseuds/3amscribbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set right after the scene between Aaron and Robert on the bridge (16/3/2016).</p>
            </blockquote>





	closer to you

**Author's Note:**

> This describes a lot of Aaron’s struggles with his (somewhat) current storyline. It also refers to some of the things he told Chas on the stairs, so be careful. It could be triggering.
> 
> Originally posted [here](http://3am-scribbles.tumblr.com/post/141979050735/warning-this-is-set-right-after-the-scene-between).

Aaron feels raw. Has wounds beneath his ribs that have been there since he was eight, badly patched up by the sheer force of his determination to move on. To make a life for himself that he could tuck into, far from the ghosts of his past and the monsters in his own mind. But now he’s bleeding again. He has worked his way in from the outside and has scar upon his skin to prove it, but none of it ever hurt as badly as the destruction of his own thoughts. The battle keeps going, wave after wave of piercing memories to scrape the wounds open every time he closes his eyes.

It’s cold outside, on the bridge, under the moon and the useless protection of his hoodie, and it makes his tears feel warmer as they fall, heavy where they land on the leather of Robert’s jacket. He’s leaving traces of himself all over it – imprints of his fingers where he’s clenching at the back, desperation where he’s breathing out over the shoulder. Yet, none of it seems to matter. Robert seems more concerned with his own hands and the paths they’re making along Aaron’s spine, and with his own breath that’s coming out in deep streams against the side of Aaron’s head, grounding him against his own chest.

And Aaron feels settled, because there’s something about it that is as familiar as the battle in his own mind. A scent beneath Robert’s aftershave that Aaron associates with him, and Vic, and Adam. The detergent that must spin in the washing machine in the cottage, now spinning in Aaron’s lungs to remind him of where he belongs, and how Robert has become a part of it. How there’s no part of Robert that is fighting the prospect of _them_ anymore.

He peels himself away while he still has a bit of himself left, before it’s all Robert and longing in his lungs and no sense of reality to push his blood through his veins anymore. The cold gets worse, encasing him, chasing shivers in the paths on his back that he made Robert’s hands abandon, and he wonders if anything he does ever will feel right again. If there’s a decision he can make in the future that won’t leave him in doubt.

Torn between backing up and leaning back in to steal more comfort he ends up swaying in place, with a mere couple of inches between them for him to stick his arm into. He pushes the sleeve of his hoodie over his eyes, harsh as he brushes the tears away. It leaves some clarity in his eyes, an awareness of how softly Robert’s gaze falls upon his own features, full of care where it once held devious plots.

“Are you,” Robert starts, voice as soft as his gaze as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket. Aaron catches the underlying meaning of it; knows that Robert’s fingers are itching to get back on the path – dip down to the small of Aaron’s lower back and make a U-turn, going on the nape of his neck. “Okay?”

He winces once the word is out, clearly regretting it as he waits for Aaron’s reaction, but Aaron gets it. _Am I as okay as I can be?_ he asks himself. _Have I gotten it all out, for now?_

He doesn’t know. Conveys just that as he nods and shrugs at the same time, looking at Robert under the moonlight, pleading for something, _anything_ , running on the knowledge that Robert’s support has been unwavering lately, and hoping that it still is. Hoping that he’s right, this time, when he thinks that Robert is done disappointing him.

“I could go in,” Robert offers. “Grab your jacket for you if you don’t want to face them all.”

Aaron shakes his head, casting a sideways glance at the water, at the darkness that spans out beyond the reflection of the moon, then back at Robert’s face, at the contrasting warmth that frames his eyes. “Can’t stand here all night, can I?”

They fall into step easily, without another word to set them off, and Aaron anchors himself in the crunching of their steps, loud in the evening. It feels a lot like they’re stomping a statement into the ground, a message to the village and themselves all at once that they’re out of hiding. That there’s little left to be exposed, now, apart from the conversations they have and the touches they share, however fleeting they may be these days.

He can hear Robert’s intake of breath, more determined than his regular breathing as he tilts his head to the side, firm in his attention even though Aaron keeps his gaze on the invisible impact of them on the ground. “You gonna sneak in through the back, then?”

It shows that he knows Aaron. Confirms the statements he’s thrown about lately to indicate the depth of their connection. _I know you better than that. This is me. You’re not on your own._

“No,” Aaron rasps out, forcing himself to vocalize the shake of his head as he still refuses to meet Robert’s gaze. His eyes aren’t aimed at The Woolpack either, though, and Robert seems to notice that. Seems to grasp Aaron’s plans as if he’s fluent in intricate plots as he breathes out an understanding noise and lets his arm knock lightly against Aaron’s. Indicating that it’s okay. That he’s on board.

“They should be home,” he murmurs softly when they’re nearing the house, still so soft, still making something within Aaron stir in a way that isn’t unpleasant. “They’ll want to talk, is that – are you up for that?”

This time Aaron sticks to a shake of his head, instinctive, conveying his feelings before he’s even mulled it over. He can’t do more talking today, doesn’t want any more speculations sticking to his skin and infiltrating his mind, he just wants to settle in again. In the scent, in the comfort. Wants it to engulf him, and put him in a false sense of security.

He doesn’t think, and after today there’s less stability to his walls than usual, so he’s truthful when he speaks – honest in a way he only ever manages to be with Robert when he bursts in a breath of, “I’m just so _tired_.”

Robert’s hands twitch in his pockets, once again expressing an unspoken desire as emotions flash over his face, settling on determination when they stop outside the door. He looks like he’s on a mission, suddenly, the way he’s done ever since Aaron first met him. He was never this gentle before, though. Was always so selfish in his actions.

“I’ll distract them – tell them I’m going to bed early or something so you can slip into my room,” he says, treading carefully among his words. “Once they go to bed I can go back down, sleep on the sofa.”

“And how’re you gonna explain that in the morning?”

Robert averts his eyes for the first time, then, swallowing audibly as he slips his hands out into the cold air, brushing one along his forehead. “Haven’t slept very well lately, since you – so they won’t question it.”

Aaron doesn’t know what Robert cut out, there. If it’s should have been _since you collapsed at the scrapyard_ , or _since you told me about Gordon_ , but his feelings about it are the same either way. A pinch of guilt because he’s causing Robert so much grief, and a handful of gratitude because he’s scared to think about where he’d be without Robert’s concern.

The voices rumble inside the house as he makes his way upstairs, but he’s too caught up in the scent - in the way it’s warming him up from the inside - to care for what they’re saying. He’s here, now, where he’s wanted to be since he left Robert’s arms, and his body is already aching with the way the tension is seeping out of him, leaving him worn and struggling to make it to Robert’s room.

A part of him knows that this can be a mistake. That he probably should have done what Robert suggested and snuck in through the back of the pub, but there’s a bigger part of him that knows what he’d have gone through if he had. That there would have been more anxiety piling up in his stomach as he’d settled in. That he would have run the events of today over and over in his mind, fighting off sleep until dawn. Here he’s got Robert to distract him, the same one that was attentive enough to knock his hands apart with a single glance in court, constantly aware of the lengths Aaron will go to relieve his mind.

He’s sat on the edge of Robert’s bed when the floorboards creak just outside the open door, and he knows that it’s okay. That the three people in the house all care deeply for him, and that nothing is going to happen to him as long as he is here, because none of them would let it. He _knows_ , but he’s also wrapped up in the memories he’s been suppressing ever since he got out of Gordon’s house, and his knees are shaking with the thought of Gordon coming up the stairs, pushing his door open to hover by his bed. He remembers it so vividly, the way something had felt so wrong, that he’s blind to the reality that is playing out before him when Robert finally slips inside and closes the door behind him.

He murmurs Aaron’s name, softly at first, like a question, before he does it again, urgently. He’s scared, terrified every time Aaron shows any sign of being uncomfortable, and he’s by Aaron’s side in a heartbeat, keeping a few inches between them as he says, “It’s just me, Aaron. Just me.”

Aaron doesn’t know how Robert knows, because he never told Robert that part. He thinks that they must be in tune, somehow, or that maybe Robert just knows how to read him better than anyone else, because his hand on Aaron is a comfort, rubbing along its own imprint along Aaron’s spine.

Aaron takes a moment to blink back the blur of tears in his eyes, breathing heavily under the soft pressure of Robert’s hand before he finally straightens a little, turning to look at the span of the mattress behind them.

“Is this okay?” he asks, because he needs the confirmation. He still has Robert’s rejection playing over and over again in his mind despite the reassurance he got afterwards, the promise that Robert will wait for him. “I could still go back home. Or wait for the sofa.”

“Right,” Robert scoffs, though he sounds more fond than cocky. “Like I’d pass up the chance to have you back in my bed? Don’t think so.”

For once, there’s nothing to read into. It’s banter without a serious, underlying tone to it. It’s an honest desire, telling Aaron that he’s wanted here. That he always will be. He promptly tugs at Robert’s arm until he topples back with him, thinks that he’ll need the faint trail of aftershave, too, to fully settle into that feeling he got on the bridge.

It’s innocent. On top of the duvet, fully clothed, barely brushing up against each other as they breath out towards the ceiling. Robert turns the light out at some point, leaving them in a darkness that seems less daunting that it usually does in Aaron’s own room, and even though Robert doesn’t cancel out the terror that’s residing at the back of Aaron’s mind at all times, he does a good job of diverting Aaron’s attention when he keeps shifting his shoulders against the mattress, reminding Aaron that he’s there.

He knows that Robert is keeping watch – that he’s waiting for Aaron to fall asleep, and that he might not drift off then either. His gaze is another layer of comfort upon Aaron’s skin, coating him under the cover of darkness and pushing against his eyelids, forcing them lower and lower with every minute. It’s not until they properly touch that he gives in, though, once an hour as passed and they’ve heard Vic and Adam move about in their room, that he fits himself against Robert’s side, tired of the fight. Tired of all the fights and all the bleeding wounds in his mind.


End file.
